Hug a Slytherin Day
by Eicklehart
Summary: Fred and George decide that its about time for Hogwarts to show the Slytherins how much it cares ... and what better way than to declare today "Hug a Slytherin Day!" DRAMIONE oneshot


**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does **

**-.- Hug a Slytherin Day -.-**

The castle was trembling in trepidation. And Dumbledore, half moon spectacles glinting knowingly, one finger nuzzling Fawkes' golden plumage, sighed; today was going to be _one of those days_.

***

Draco Malfoy woke up - too early - with the suspicious feeling that the day was only going to get worse; call it the Malfoy Instinct. The Intuition of Draco. The Shining. Whatever it was, Draco _knew_. He may not have known that Fred and George Weasley, several moving staircases above him, were giving each other high-fives and congratulating themselves on their genius; he probably didn't realise that it was unusual for Peeves to be cackling and screaming this early in the morning; and Draco Malfoy definitely didn't notice the strange formation of red and gold clouds emblazoned onto the dark, pre-dawn sky: A dashing, daring _'W'_ which slowly faded out of sight.

In every Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw dormitory in the school, the students were stirring, and stumbling downstairs on their way to breakfast, passing the obligatory student notice board. They walked past, barely glancing at it - and then backtracked, doing a double take. A piece of bright, red paper which sparkled and glimmered against the dull cork backdrop begged invitingly to be read. In their common rooms, crowds began to form around the notice board, reading the paper which declared, "_Today is _the_ day - Hug a Slytherin Day!_"

***

"Today is _the_ day," Blaise Zabini declared triumphantly, as he struggled into a pair of grey trousers, hopping around on one leg with the other flailing madly in the air. Draco ducked as the Italian landed on his bed with a 'whump', and a wheeze of the old mattress.

"The day of the apocalypse?" Draco asked, casually slicking back his platinum blonde hair to aerodynamic proportions. Blaise, having finally mastered his pants, elbowed Draco away from the mirror and began to carefully, painstakingly, ruffle his black locks to larrikin perfection.

"The day I ask the Weaselette out on a date, she accepts, and you give me fifty galleons," Blaise replied, his voice muffled somewhat because his tongue was sticking out of the corner of his mouth. Hairstyling took a lot of concentration, and after all, today was _the_ day.

Draco slipped his bag over his shoulder, looking around the deserted dormitory uneasily; the other boys had already gone to breakfast, but the old stone walls seemed to be grinning slyly, as though they had absorbed the essence of every Slytherin before him. If they could talk, they would have been chanting, _we know something you don't know_, and smirking with Draconian perfection. _Then again,_ Draco thought, _maybe Potter is contagious and I'm going crazy_. He shrugged the feeling away.

***

Fred and George, hunched over a large and dangerous-looking box of Zonko's merchandise, had decided that they needed to make an entrance, as befitted jokers of their extreme mischief and panache. They needed to spark the student population into _believing_ that today really could be made special ... in that _special_ Weasley way.

"We're stylish," Fred said, "We should go into breakfast with fireworks going off, wearing silken dress robes and top hats." After some thought, he added, "with _canes_." But his twin shook his head.

"That's not _our_ style," George said with a frown that was really just a rearranging of freckles on his good-natured face. "That's more ... Malfoy style." There was a pause, like a void in the universe ... and then there was the idea, which rushed in with a sound like a gasp of surprise. The twins grinned, slowly and deviously.

"Malfoy," they chorused, and a few miles below them in the dank and slimy terrain of the dungeon corridors, Draco shuddered and complained to Blaise about draughts.

***

"Well, it's a castle, it's meant to have draughts," Blaise retorted, striding quickly ahead. The tantalising scent of grilled bacon was tickling his fancy, insistently. "Otherwise, where's the ambiance, eh? The _atmosphere_. The-" Blaise probably would have continued through the dictionary, but he was cut off. Under normal circumstances, this would have made Draco twitch his facial muscles into the expression which passes for happiness on a Malfoy, but the fact that Blaise's theosauric tirade had been cut off by an inexpert hand to the windpipe made the circumstances somewhat different. Fred Weasley - or was it George? - stepped out from behind a corner and stared down at the floor, where he obviously expected someone to be lying in spasms of pain, before craning his neck up to meet the gaze of the lanky and furious Zabini. Blaise was rubbing his throat, where a nasty purple bruise was forming just under his Adam's apple.

"You're dead," Blaise snarled, and the Weasley twin looked delighted.

"I've always wanted to be a Zombie!" He exclaimed, before darting forwards and cannoning into Draco, sending them both tumbling to the floor. Draco's aerodynamic skull hit the flagstones with a crack that sent purple and white lights flashing across his vision. His ribs were being crushed, and Draco tried to push the stocky weight of the Gryffindor off him in vain, swearing a blue streak. He felt himself being dragged upright, and lashed out with a foot. Blaise howled in pain, someone shouted, "_Petrificus Totalus!_" and there would have been silence if it wasn't for the sound of a body hitting the floor, Draco swearing revenge on all Weasley's and promising a deathly wrath and the vengeance of his Father, and the twins' heavy panting.

Draco's hands were being held behind his back by someone who had spent years cheerfully smashing bludgers into people's skulls, and he was smart enough to know that someone who had spent years flying high above those bludgers and not really straining anything but his eyes didn't have a snowball's chance in hell of breaking loose. "What do you want?" He spat, almost tripping over the petrified body of Zabini.

One of the twins assured him, "We're not going to hurt you."

Draco rolled his eyes. "I feel so much better now, especially looking at my immobile friend on the floor just there." The Weasley Twins chose to ignore the blithe sarcasm of their captive, and effortlessly heaved him off the ground. Though Draco wouldn't have been able to know, it was Fred who had him under the armpits and whose fingers were digging painfully into his lymph nodes; and the ever identical George whose brawny arms were wrapped around Draco's thin ankles. Like a woeful sacrifice being carried into a cannibal tribe, Draco began the slow ascent into the Breakfast Hall ...

... Where Hermione Granger was falling in love with Doctor Who, and out of love with Doctor House. In a magazine her mother had sent her, the faces of both men were splashed across a glossy double page, each one looking equally charismatic and dashing; House with his piercing blue eyes, hungover look and rough stubble, competing against the lanky, spiky-haired irresistibility of The Doctor. Absentmindedly, she dipped her knife into the nutella jar and began to spread them across her sausages. Harry, ever the more observant, nudged Ron and both boys turned to stare at their bookwormy best friend as she took a bite of the chocolate-smeared sausage, chewed, swallowed ... and took another bite.

"Doctor Dilemma," Ginny informed them, and both boys nodded as though they knew what she was talking about. "Did you see the notice in the common room this morning?" Ginny asked, poking Ron with her fork because he was trying to steal her toast.

"Ow!"

"No, we had to work on a new Quidditch move," Harry replied, and Ginny - ever the gossip - gasped in delight. "It's Fred and George, I'm sure of it," She babbled excitedly, "Nobody really believes it, so nothing's happened yet, but they put up a note saying that it's - "

"HUG A SLYTHERIN DAY!" Someone shouted, and the entire hall, which had been buzzing with anticipation, became silent for a heartbeat before erupting into a huge cheer. Everyone, except the distressed and confused Hermione, turned to face the doors to the Dungeons, which had burst open to reveal the Weasley Twins ... and one disdainful, rumpled, panicky Draco Malfoy. They frogmarched him through the Hall, one on either side. Several of the teachers jumped to their feet, but Dumbledore waved them back down, and they obeyed hesitantly.

"We want all the mistreated - "

" - misunderstood - "

" - misused - "

"Slytherins to know that we care." The Twins declared, halting in the direct center of the Hall with a furious Malfoy simmering between them.

George raised his voice over the smattering of applause, "So make today a _special_ day!"

The applause was beginning to rumble through the tables, and several people let out whoops. Fred continued, "In that most special, caring way!"

The twins chorused, "Because today is the day ... _Hug a Slytherin Day!_"

The Hall exploded into a frenzy of cheering, jeering and cat-calling. Hermione, torn from her thoughts, looked up with a frown of irritation. "I'm trying to think, here," she said, to nobody in particular. Everybody was standing up, banging on the tables and shouting. Several of the Gryffindors had run over to the horrified Slytherin table and were already bestowing hugs on them, the green-clad students wincing and looking like they would rather be hugged by the Giant Squid, in all his poison-tentacled glory. A dazed looking Goyle had been mobbed by a group of Hufflepuff seventh-years. Fred and George, beaming, jumped onto the Gryffindor table, kicking aside plates of waffles and jars of spreads. To roars of delight, they hoisted Draco onto their shoulders and paraded him down the table, stopping right in front of an irate Hermione.

"Even the Slytherin Prince cannot resist the power - the power of love!" Fred bellowed, and Hermione winced as the noise rattled her eardrums.

"Oh, really," she muttered, as students began to mob the Slytherins and Fred and George began to spin around with Draco perched precariously on their shoulders. Closing her magazine with a _snap_ Hermione stood up on her chair and climbed onto the table, furious.

"What have we here?" George mocked, and Hermione narrowed her eyes.

"This is a blatant violation of human rights!" She began, fuming. "You can't just _disturb breakfast_, it's meant to be a quiet and sedate affair!"

The twins glanced at each other, grinning wickedly.

"Fred," said George

"George," said Fred

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" They chorused, and before Hermione could say _Quidditch_ both red-heads had pulled out their wands and Draco was hovering in the air. With horror, Hermione felt herself begin to rise as well.

"Put me down!" She shrieked, pushing her skirt between her knees. _"Bastards_, I'll tell your mother!" She was barely two meters above the table, but the height was already giving Hermione vertigo; her head spun and her stomach began to do odd floppy things. Hermione closed her eyes and breathed very slowly through her mouth, all thoughts of hexes and curses forgotten. She would never be able to perform a spell in this state - all her mental concentration was focused on keeping her breakfast down and pretending she wasn't floating in the air next to - of all people! - Malfoy.

"You need to get into the spirit of things, Granger!" One of the twins shouted up at her.

"_Let me down!_" She screamed, and heard her sentiments echoed by Draco, who was also threatening that his Father would hear about this.

"I'll have you expelled!" He bellowed, blonde hair mussed and dirty. "I'll have you strung up in the Dungeons by your tongues while Blast-Ended Skrewts eat your face!"

The face eating, Hermione thought appreciatively, was quite a nice touch.

"Sorry Hermione - and Ferret - you're not coming down until you make today a _special_ day!" Hermione opened her eyes to see the freckled grin of a Weasley looming from below her. When the twins saw her looking, they mimed a Hug.

"Fiends!" She shrieked, and then closed her eyes again as the Hall spun sickeningly.

Malfoy began to whisper. "I want to get down so that I can strangle them - through the power of bureaucracy! Can you just hug me?"

"Vertigo," Hermione whispered through barely parted lips.

"What?"

"_Vertigo_."

Below the pair, George shouted, "They're talking! This is how the bonds of friendship form!" And the students cheered. At the teacher's table, Dumbledore clapped, ignoring the looks of horror and fury from his staff. Snape was trembling in his seat, ready to haul those Weasely brats down to the dungeons and poison them.

"You're scared of heights?" Malfoy hissed, and rolled his eyes. "Don't puke on me. These robes are Versace."

"Just hug me already, you mangy cur," Hermione scowled, taking a deep breath and opening her eyes. She kept her gaze trained solidly on the enchanted ceiling, a reassuring cerulean blue, and opened her arms.

"Here we go, folks!" Fred shouted over the hubbub, "You are about to see true love bloom."

"Ugh," Hermione and Draco said simultaneously. Their eyes met, and Draco pulled an apologetic face as he pulled Hermione into his arms.

Hermione's pulse skyrocketed, her heart pounding like it wanted to beat out of her chest as Malfoy wrapped long, lanky arms around her. He was nervous too, she could tell; his breath came in short gasps. Hermione's face pressed against his shoulder for a split second as the two gingerly embraced, before pushing away from each other. Grey eyes met brown in a moment of confusion - and then they fell.

Hermione landed gently on a platter of toast, and George - wand still trained on Hermione - gave her a wink. "Wouldn't want you to hurt that pretty face," he smirked, and she sneered back, bursting into laughter when she saw Malfoy - dripping with sauces and jams, a hash brown stuck to his cheek and cornflakes in his hair - rising from a pile of dirty plates. His nose was screwed up in horror as he held his robes, saturated with pumpkin juice, away from his body and glared at the laughing Weasley twins.

"These robes are Versace!" Draco shouted, and whipped his wand out of his pocket - only to stop, and stare, in complete horror. There was a sausage speared on the end of his wand, flopping uselessly around. As he gawked at it, the hash brown peeled itself off his face and landed on his polished shoes with a wet sucking sound.

George pulled Hermione to her feet and shunted her next to a gaping Malfoy.

"You landed in the toast?" Draco demanded, outraged. "How come I couldn't land in the toast? These robes are Versace, you're just wearing that ridiculous poly-blend!"

Fred threw a brawny arm around Hermione's shoulders. "The Prince of Slytherin!" Fred shouted, and George continued, "and the Perfect Prefect! Bringing _Hug a Slytherin Day!_ to your breakfast table! Today!"

Draco and Hermione were pushed off the table into a mass of cheering people who immediately mobbed Draco like twihard fangirls mobbing Edward Cullen, smothering him in hugs. Hermione tried to worm her way out of the crowd, but they kept on pushing her back into Draco.

Suddenly, a sound like a cannon shot reverberated through the hall. The students froze, turning to face Dumbledore, whose wand was still smoking. The other teachers looked relieved; McGonagall had been on the verge of disobeying Dumbledore and quieting the students themselves, but now that he seemed to have regained his sanity ...

"I think that this is a marvelous display which fosters interhouse unity!" Dumbledore declared, and McGonagall sighed. Regained his sanity? He didn't have any to regain in the first place! The Headmaster continued, "and I must award Mr. And Mr. Weasley twenty points each, for their attempt to heal the rift between the Hogwarts houses. Today shall officially - now and hereafter - be known as _Hug a Slytherin Day!_"

The Gryffindor House cheered, and Fred and George gave elaborate bows from the tabletop. Draco, sensing a chance to escape, quickly slithered through the crowd, followed closely by Hermione. The two had just reached the edge of the Hall when Dumbledore's amplified voice boomed, "And there go our two lovebirds, the very symbol of interhouse unity, Mr. Malfoy and Miss Granger!" Hermione froze, one hand on the back of Draco robes. They exchanged panicked looks at the entire of Hogwarts turned to stare at them. Almost paralysed by terror and humiliation, Hermione turned around to face a beaming Dumbledore.

"Holy Flying Merlin, that old man's lost his marbles," Draco muttered from behind her. Dumbledore's eyes narrowed.

"Shut up!" Hermione hissed, trying not to sound as terrified as she felt. "I think he heard you."

The doors to the Hall slammed inwards, hitting Draco's back as the bolts slid home. Both students jumped forwards in shock, whirling around to see their escape route blocked. The entire population of Hogwarts waited with bated breath.

"I think," Dumbledore suggested genially, "that in the ultimate expression of interhouse unity, Mr. Malfoy and Miss Granger will grace Hogwarts by, perhaps, a simple kiss. To make the day a true celebration of harmony by sharing the greatest joy possible - young love."

Hermione stared at Draco in shock. He was gaping at her in horror. "I can't kiss you!" He protested, soft enough so that nobody else could hear.

"Kiss her, Slytherin!" Someone in the crowd shouted, "Before she runs away!"

"The feeling's mutual," she hissed, ignoring the chanting which was growing.

"_Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss!"_

Dumbledore spoke up. "The doors will not open until you have kissed," he said, and Hermione groaned. Draco glared at Dumbledore.

"_Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss!"_

"I always said he had an evil glint in his eyes," he muttered, and Hermione shook her head.

"It's a twinkle," she said firmly, before her eyes flicked back to Malfoy. They stared at each other for a long, nervous moment before Hermione sighed.

"Why me?" She moaned, as Draco stepped forwards and wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Why you?" Draco agreed, sighing. "Why couldn't I be forced to kiss that sexy blonde sixth-year from Ravenclaw?"

"_Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss!"_

"It should have been her," Hermione said, looking anywhere but Draco's face as she linked her arms around his neck. He smelled like jam and fried potatoes, but his skin was pleasantly cool and smooth. One of his hands twined itself through her hair, tilting her face backwards. Hermione stood up on her tiptoes, pressed tightly against Draco's soiled _Versace_ robes as he pulled her closer ...

His lips pressed against hers softly, chapped and tasting slightly of cornflakes and peppermint. Hermione caught her breath, mouth opening in surprise as he pulled away. The doors creaked open, and Hermione, blushing to the roots of her hair, tried vainly to ignore a cheering, whooping Hogwarts. She turned to Draco, who had only the faintest of pink blushes staining his cheekbones.

"Let's never speak of this moment again," she said faintly.

Draco grinned at her mischievously. "At least, until next year, Granger."

**Finished! This plot bunny has been attacking me for months, so I hope you all enjoyed it. It's based on an avatar/icon thing I saw, which basically read something like "Hug a Slytherin Day!". It's not my idea! I just spun it out into a fic. And no offence was meant to twilight fans with the whole "mobbing him like twihard fangirls mobbing Edward Cullen" thing. I'm a twihard too!!!!! Anyways, thanks for reading and as always please try and drop in a review!!**

**~ Eicklehart**


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